Whalebones
by Poppylaine
Summary: Mix of Harper Connelly books/Dexter. What happens when Harper Connelly is hired to find a dead body in Miami and runs into America's most beloved Serial Killer?  *It's AU, There's no Rita/Lumen for Dexter*
1. Intro

Whalebones

By Poppy Laine

Introduction:

Hello and welcome! I just wanted to explain a little more about my story to clear up any questions people might have.

This book contains NO spoilers from either series. I'm using the characters only and all the investigations in this story are purely my own.

I took the character from the Harper Connelly series by Charlaine Harris (Author of the "Sookie Stackhouse" series) and mixed it with my favorite TV show, Dexter.

For those who like Dexter but have no clue who Harper Connelly is:  
Harper Connelly is a woman that was struck by lightning and was then given the ability to track the dead. She has a brother in the books and a lot of family history that I do not use in story. (Sorry if you don't like this about the story I just felt that adding Tolliver would make the story too complicated.)

For those 'Dexperts':

I use Dexter and a lot of the characters from Season 1 of the show. My story does not include Rita, Lumen, Rudy or any of the killers from any season of Dexter.

I welcome everyone's thoughts and opinions, but please don't be too harsh on me! I wrote this for my personal enjoyment and it's all for fun. This is the first fanfic I've done!

I've written about 20 pages so far and have added two parts at this point (Which is 2 pages out of 20...so as you can see, there is lots more to come). I'll add more as I go back to edit what I've already written.

So please read, please review and please enjoy!


	2. Part 1

WHALEBONES

By Poppy Laine

Part One:

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the early morning light. I groaned and rolled over in bed to face away from the window. My eyes adjusted and I was face to face with the clock reading 9:34 am. I closed my eyes and tried in vain to will myself back to sleep, but every nearby noise seemed to be exaggerated. I grabbed the pillow under my head and pushed it against my ear, trying to drown out the sound of the vacuum cleaner running in the next room and finally gave up, throwing the pillow across the room and sitting up in bed.

The small, musty hotel room looked the same as every hotel room I occupied in the last few years. There was a loud air conditioning unit under the window, cheap paintings on every wall and bibles in the nightstand. I reached over to my bedside table to retrieve my cellphone that was blinking to indicate that I had one missed call. I didn't need to look to know it was from the client I was supposed to meet later in the day. From what I understood, my new client was a young woman whose husband went missing a few months ago. She wanted me to track down her husband and locate his body, because that's what I do.

About 6 years ago, when I was 18 years old, I was struck by lightning. I was blow drying my hair next to an open window during a thunderstorm when the lightning struck my left side. My foster father had to give me CPR to save my life and then turned me over to the state to avoid my medical bills. I recovered fully but I do have a red spider like scar that rests on my left hip from the impact point and I also have a left knee and right hand that act up occasionally. My knee will ache when it's about to rain and my right hand likes to shake on it's own from time to time.

Then there's my "gift". Ever since the lightning struck, the dead have reached out to me and I've been able to track down dead bodies. Whenever I get within a certain radius of the body I feel a hum in my head, like a bee buzzing in my ear that gets louder and stronger the closer I get to the body and once I touch or reach out to the body mentally, I relive that person's final moments.

It's also been my soul means of income. Through word of mouth I've managed to have several clients from all over the US who were willing to shell out big dollars to locate their loved one's bodies or to see how they died.

Since I was raised in the foster system and never had a family to call my own, it's been fairly easy to move city to city as the jobs come in. I am currently in Miami, Florida, which is not my favorite destination. I always prefer cooler climates and since driving into Miami, the humidity has slowed me down, making me feel extremely sluggish. I checked the voice mail my client, Ann Harris, left and saw that she wanted to meet earlier around 10:30 at a local cafe. I called her back and confirmed the time and place before dragging myself out of bed and getting ready. I decided against taking a shower since I knew it would take too long for my hair to dry and also knowing that I would feel gross and sticky from humidity the moment I stepped out the door.

I arrived at the cafe about 10 minutes early since the drive was so short. It was a small cafe on the beach with plenty of tables with umbrellas overlooking the ocean. I ordered a large coffee and took a seat at the table nearest the ocean. There was no denying the view was beautiful. Since my encounter with lightning, I usually welcomed sunny days like this, but Miami's weather made it seem obnoxious. The sunlight reflecting off the water only made me wish I had brought my sunglasses along.

Ann Harris arrived a few minutes after I sat down and I was immediately able to tell who she was. She had the same look that most of my clients had before meeting me. They always looked hurt and uncertain and skeptical. Most of them have heard of what I could do, but most didn't want to believe it and only called to meet with me when they exhausted all other options. Everything about Ann looked a little disheveled. Her frizzy red hair was thrown into a bun that was almost falling out, her makeup appeared to be applied with a shaky hand and her clothes were wrinkled. It always hurt to see people in this state, people who let themselves go after losing a loved one, but I never let that get to me, if I did, I'd be broke.

"Hello, Ms. Harris" I called out to her standing up. She spotted me and rushed over to the table.

"Hi, you must be Harper, sorry about changing the appointment, I really had no choice, I have to get to work early today". She explained quickly, taking a seat across from me.

"No problem at all. Now why don't you tell me a little more about your situation." I said, taking a large sip of my coffee.

She stared at me for a moment, taking in my appearance. "You...weren't exactly what I was expecting..You're really young" she blurted out, her face growing more skeptical than before.

"Yeah, I get that a lot" I said dryly, already growing impatient. That was one of the biggest pains of what I do. Since I'm only 24 most people think that I'm some sort of con-artist and choose not to believe me until they have no choice, then they hate me for bringing nothing but bad news. I don't dress as most people expect me to. They always expect me to dress like a hippie or gypsy with loud over the top costumes, but I don't. I dress like most girls my age and for some reason _that_ makes people trust me even less.

Today I was wearing blue jeans and a long, red tank top with sneakers. It was more casual than I usually dressed meeting a client, but the 100 degree weather gave me no other choice.

"So, you're looking for your husband?" I asked, trying to steer her towards to the case. She looked down at the table and took a deep, shaky breath. "Well, no...they found him. The police called me a few days after I set up this appointment with you. He had been strangled to death in a hotel room. They still have no idea who did it."

I nodded, giving her a sympathetic look. "I am so sorry about that. Were you interested in...my other services?" I asked choosing my words carefully. When people called me they were at their breaking point and about to give up all hope, which made them incredibly easy to offend. I was really hoping that I didn't drive from Alabama to Miami for nothing.

She nodded slowly and leaned over the table "Can you really see...what happened?" she whispered, eying the empty tables around us.

"Yes, I can. It will only be half of the price I told you on the phone. I will be able to see the last few moments of what happened in his life, but I won't be able to see who did it. For some reasons I am unable to see faces, but I can see a lot of other things that might tell us who did this to your husband. When did you want me to go see him?" I asked, hoping it would be soon. The sun was beating down on my back and I felt anxious to drive north.

"Do you have time right now? That's why I wanted to make it earlier. He's at the cemetery, you can follow me there" she said, getting up from the table quickly. I downed the last of my coffee and stood as well, grabbing my purse off the seat.

"Sure thing, but I will have to ask for payment up front before I actually see him. I know it seems tacky to do that, but this is how I make my living and I've had people not pay me before". I said, trying to drive the point home. Some people would hear what I'd have to say and then refuse to pay me as a result.  
She nodded "Oh, of course, of course! I'll stop by the ATM on the way to the cemetery. I'm in the white car" she said pointing as we headed to the parking lot.

I followed Ms. Harris to the cemetery and knew once we were getting close. Bodies that have been embalmed never put out as strong of a hum as a fresh body, the hum is softer and almost muffled. I felt those muffled hums growing stronger as we parked in front of the cemetery. She met me at the gate and handed me an envelope with $2,500 cash in it. I followed her through the cemetery past rows and rows of hums, some more muffled than others. We finally stopped in front of a fresh grave that hasn't even had it's tombstone placed yet. I took off my shoes and stepped onto the grave with my bare feet. It was harder to reach down 6 feet to a body that is already muffled from being embalmed, I needed all the contact I could get. I knelt down on my knees and put my hands on the fresh dirt.

My nerves buzzed with anticipation of making contact with the body. Although the process was morbid, it became something I enjoyed doing. I slowly tilted my head side to side, feeling down for Mr. Harris.

Images popped into my mind and he was in a smoky hotel room similar to the one I was staying in. The TV was on and blaring and there was a woman yelling at him from the bathroom. She stormed out of the bathroom and was completely naked. I could not see the woman's face or even what color her hair was but she did have a tattoo of a butterfly on her hip. More screaming ensued and then the woman started choking Ms. Harris' husband. I felt the hands around my neck, cutting off my air supply. As Mr. Harris died, so did the vision, I was lying on my side gasping for air and Ms. Harris was at my side trying to help me up.  
"I'm okay, really." I said sitting up, taking a deep breath. "I should have warned you, when I see how the person dies, I experience it myself. In this case, he was strangled, and I felt it too. I'm sorry to scare you." It was the one real downside other than not being able to see murderer's faces.

She sat in the grass next to me, looking terrified of what I was about to tell her. "What did you see?" she asked, barely above a whisper, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Your husband was sitting on a bed in a hotel room. The room was smoky, I'm guessing from cigarettes, they smelt like menthol. There was a woman in the room that was screaming at him about being a liar. She came out of the bathroom and like I told you before, I couldn't see her face, but she did have a butterfly tattoo that I could see on her hip. Then she strangled him."

Ann's face went through a myriad of emotions as I told her. From sad, to blank, to angry. "I can't believe it. You're the real deal. There is no way you could have known he smoked menthol's..." she said, the words dropping off as she stared off into space.  
"Sorry, I know it's difficult to hear these things. Is there anything else I can do to help?" I asked, standing up slowly. I could feel the usual drain of energy that came from contacting the dead.

"Well, you have to tell the police what you saw!" She said, standing up and dusting the dirt off her jeans.

Here we go.

"You have to understand...the police can't take anything I say as evidence. As far as they know I could be paid to tell them those things. If I try to tell them what I saw and how I saw it, they'll just laugh". I explained, not wanting to get dragged into a police station. The police were at the top of the list of people who don't approve of me or my gift.

She whipped out a cell phone and started punching in numbers. "No, I have the detective's number right here and she just has to believe this. You tell her what you told me, you don't have to say how you saw it and then she can look for this woman with the tattoo!" she said, holding up the phone to her ear as the phone started ringing.

"Hello, Detective Morgan? It's Ann Harris and I found someone who has information on who killed my husband" she exclaimed into the phone. She nodded, listening to the other line, "Yep, she's right here, her name is Harper".

She handed the phone to me and my head started spinning. Police _always_ hated me.

"Hello, this is Harper"

"Hey, this is Detective Morgan, Ann says you have information on her husband's murderer." a young female's voice replied.

"Yes, I believe it was a woman with a tattoo of a butterfly on her hip and that's all I know". I said quickly.

"So...you're an actual witness?" the detective's voice sounding more alert.

I sighed and handed the phone back to Ms. Harris. "You explain it to her, if they want me to come in and talk to her, I will." I shoved my feet back into my shoes as Ms. Harris chatted into the phone. I could almost hear laughing on the other end. My right hand started shaking and I balled it into a fist to try and control it.

"They want to talk to you! Do you have time to go with me now?" she asked, putting the phone into her purse. Her eyes were lit with a new energy. For Ann it seemed she wanted closure from the murderer being caught.

"Sure, but I will need to stop by a gas station on the way" I said, heading back to my car, my head slowly spinning. I was desperately needing a coke, it seemed to be the only way to bounce back quickly after contacting a body. "But I need to warn you, Ann. They most likely will just make fun of me for what I do and you for believing in me. You yourself were skeptical before seeing for yourself." I warned, opening my car door.

She waved her hand in the air "They can believe what they want, but it will at least put the idea in their heads".

After we stopped at the nearest 7-11 and I gulped down a coke, we drove to the Miami Metro Police Station. I was already feeling almost back to normal as we took the elevator up to the homicide floor. The elevators opened and we stepped into the homicide department's office. It was a large room with several desks that were littered with files and papers. One wall of the office was a large window overlooking the marina and ocean. There were several people running around and if I didn't know it was the homicide department I would have guessed it was a newspaper office. A thin brunette woman that appeared in her late 20's was standing over a desk that appeared messier than the rest. She looked up and immediately recognized Ms. Harris. She shot me a look and I could tell was holding back several snarky thoughts. She had a long pretty face, but something about her seemed rugged and tomboyish. She reached out her hand to shake Ms. Harris' hand and then mine. Her hand shake was firm and I could already see a glint of humor in her eye.  
"Hi, I'm Detective Morgan, you must be the psychic I spoke to earlier."

I forced a smile, "Hello, I'm Harper".

She gestured to two chairs next to her desk and we all proceeded to sit down.  
"So Ann tells me that you can stand on a grave and see how someone died and that you did that and saw Mr. Harris' murder! That's just _amazing_!" she said sarcastically, stifling a laugh.

I stopped forcing a smile and nodded, narrowing my eyes at her.

I told her what I saw and tried to be as detailed as possible, down to what channel the TV was on. I saw her smirk grow smaller, the longer I talked. I knew some of that information would not have been guessable.

When I was done telling her everything she didn't say anything right away, but did pull a file off her desk and start looking at it, her eyebrows crunched together. I couldn't help but smile now, it was always fun proving skeptics wrong.

"How long have you been in Miami?" she finally asked. Here we go, now I'm a suspect.

"Since yesterday at around noon. I drove in from Alabama where I was for about two weeks. I can give you the number of my client there if you need it." I said, trying not to groan out loud. I wasn't worried about being falsely accused by any means. but police liked to keep me in town when they grew too suspicious. I looked out at the bright, sunny Miami weather with a sense of dread.

"Did you make any purchases with a debit card or credit card on the 18th of August.?" she asked, eying me suspiciously.

I nodded, that was the one and only reason I carried a debit card, police were suspicious of me _often_.

Ann started shifting in her chair nervously, she obviously wasn't expecting this kind of reaction.

I pulled out my cell phone and grabbed a pen and paper out of my purse and jotted down the number of my previous client and the hotel I was staying at in Alabama.

"Here is the my number, the number of my client from Alabama and the hotel I was staying at on the 18th of August." I handed her the paper with the phone numbers on it.

The detective read the information I wrote down on the card carefully before putting it next to her desk phone.

"Would you mind getting a cheek swab? Just procedure" She asked, it was easy to see that she had now lost interest in me since I was so willing to cooperate.

Ann stood up abruptly, "I cannot believe this! I bring her in here to help you do your job and you treat her like a criminal!"

"Ms. Harris, it's alright, this happens all the time. I just described a crime scene in detail to the detective working the case, she wouldn't be doing her job if she wasn't suspicious" I said quickly, trying to prevent her from causing a scene. Ms. Harris still looked upset. "Well thank you Harper for being understanding, but I'm sorry, I need to go. I just can't stand for this" she said and proceeded to walk to the elevator.

I turned back to Detective Morgan who looked confused. "Um, okay..follow me". She muttered.

She led me into a small lab on the other end of the office. "Where the fuck is Masuka?" she muttered to herself. She walked over to a door on the other end of the lab and banged on it "Dex, you in there?". The door was opened by a man in his early thirties. He was noticeably attractive with a strong jawline and intense brown eyes. His brown hair was cut in a almost shaggy cut and he a few heads taller than Detective Morgan and myself. At the moment he appeared very annoyed with Detective Morgan. "Where the hell is Masuka? I need a cheek swab" she barked at him, he looked past her at me and I quickly stopped staring at him and pretended to be interested in the posters on the wall displaying different blood spatter patterns.

"He's probably at lunch, I can do it for you if you want." the man said.

Detective Morgan turned back to me, giving me another smirk "Come and see me before you leave" she said before walking out of the lab.

The man stepped into the lab, "Hi, I'm Dexter, you can have a seat right there" he said, motioning to a chair next to me. I sat down and watched him as he grabbed a swabbing kit out of the cabinet. When he headed back towards me I saw the badge around his neck said "Dexter Morgan".

"Are you related to Detective Morgan?" I asked as he put the kit on the counter and started getting it ready.

He nodded "Deb? Yeah, she's my sister, fun, isn't she?" he asked sarcastically. I smirked.

He asked me to open my mouth and then swabbed my cheek with the cotton swab. "That should be it, you're all set."

I stood from the chair just as a short, bald, Asian man wearing a lab coat burst in the door.

"Dex! Did Christmas come early?" he exclaimed, looking me up and down. Dexter gave me an apologetic look and retreated to the other end of the lab.

"I'm Vince Masuka, what's your name?" he asked, a giant grin covering his face.

"Harper Connelly," I said, grabbing my purse from off the floor. He reached to shake my hand eagerly.

"That's a pretty name, sounds exotic. Have you been in Miami long?" he asked, still shaking my hand.

I was actually glad to see Detective Morgan this time as she entered the room.

"For fuck's sake Masuka, stop hitting on her. Harper, follow me."

Once back at her desk, she was nicer than before and even apologized for Masuka. She said she appreciated my cooperation and just wanted me to stay in town until the DNA test checked out.

I was glad to get out of the police department and stopped at coffee shop next to the police station to get another cup of coffee. This cafe also had outside seating that was shaded by large table umbrellas and had a beautiful view of the ocean. I sipped the coffee and tried to will away the headache I felt coming on. It had been a stressful day, but it could have been much worse. Locating a body was much harder, sometimes the body could be hundreds of miles away and in that case, I was never able to find them.


	3. Part 2

Part Two

I was used to being stuck in a town for longer than expected and luckily I had enough money to get through at least six months. My next assignment was in Louisiana, but the client has been tentative and hasn't set a specific date yet.

When half a week passed and I didn't hear anything from the Detective, I started feeling antsy. I tried on other nights to go out and explore the nightlife, but never found anything that satisfied me. I've never been one to enjoy clubs or bars, but it did occasionally beat the boredom of sitting in a hotel room by myself all night. I finally did get a call from Detective Morgan six nights later saying that my alibis and DNA test checked out and that I was free to go. (And that they "of course" wouldn't use any of the information I provided in their investigation).

I decided to spend one more night in the motel and then take off the next morning. I still had a book that was unread and a number for Indian Takeout so I decided to stay in for the night. My ultimate plan was to head to Louisiana and to call the client when I was closer to try and get them to decide one way or the other. Anything at this point would be better than hot, sweaty Miami.

It was about 2am and I was on the bed reading my novel when I was hit out of nowhere. I dropped my book as a large humming started roaring in my ears. I shot up in bed, immediately alert. This meant that not only a dead body was very nearby, but the dead body was just created. I got off the bed and stumbled to put on my shoes to determine what direction the humming was coming from. I walked towards the wall I was facing and the humming vibrated louder with each step. This motel room had an adjoining door to the room the humming originated from. I pressed my ear to the door and strained to listen for noise. For all I knew someone was murdered or had a heart attack. I tried in vain to reach through the door to get a glimpse of what happened to the body but couldn't get a clear picture.

I sensed something that I only sensed a few times, the spirit hasn't left the body. It's been something I've been unable to explain other than the person needed to or wanted me to see something. It was never a good sign and up until now, it has only occurred twice. I grabbed a bobby pin off the dresser and bent it to pick the lock on the door. Before opening the door, I strained again to hear if someone else was in the room, but was met with silence. I quietly turned the door knob and opened the door a crack, peeking in.

What immediately caught me off guard was that I couldn't see anything, the doorway was covered by a plastic tarp. My stomach twinged, the person could have been trying to kill themselves with carbon monoxide. I grabbed a pocket knife out of my pocket and cut a small slit down the plastic tarp, so I could peek through and smell for any harmful gasses.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the body, it was the body of a man lying on the bed. He was strapped to the bed with plastic binding his head, arms, chest, and legs. Everything in the room appeared to be covered with plastic. There was plastic on the bed and walls and dressers. I cut the slit a little bigger to get a better look and stepped a small step closer to see if the room was empty and it appeared to be. I decided to get only close enough to contact the body and once I did I was once again sucked into the dreamlike scene.

The man was strapped to the bed by a man who showed him pictures of two women. He then cut a slit down the man's cheek and put a drop of blood on a glass slide, the kind that was used in labs to put under microscopes. The man crossed the room to put the slide on the plastic covered dresser and the returned to the man holding a giant knife. The man held the knife in the air and with surgical precision, plunged the knife into the man's chest. I felt the sharp precision of the knife as it slid into my chest and everything faded to black.

I snapped back to reality and was panicked at first when I was surrounded by the plastic tarp, until I realized that I had fallen forward into it during my vision. My hand kept clutching at my chest where I felt the knife slice in moments before and stumbled my way to the bed to where the spirit was waiting to be realized. The man's eyes were closed and the blood that came from his chest was caught by the plastic wrap. I grabbed the man's hand and whispered "I saw everything, you can go" and felt as the spirit slipped out of the man's body.

I heard rustling of plastic come from the other room and I quickly looked for a place to hide, which was difficult since everything was bound in plastic and since I was extra woozy from releasing the spirit. Footsteps approached quickly and I scooted to the other side of the bed, crouching close to the floor and hopefully, out of sight. My heart was beating wildly and my right hand was trembling uncontrollably. I peeked up over the bed and instantly made eye contact with who entered the room. The man's eyes were widened with shock. We stood there for the briefest moment, staring at each other.

It finally registered in my brain that I had seen this man before. It was the man who took my DNA swab, Dexter.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. I scrambled towards the door way, losing my footing and falling hard on my face. I heard rustling of plastic as he rushed towards me and then felt the pressure of his hands as he held me on the ground. I struggled to get up and tried to squirm towards the door, but he was too strong. I felt a pinch in my neck and everything went black.

**Part Three: Coming soon!**


	4. Part 3

Part Three

**Dexter**

_How could this happen_? I stared down at the girl that was now slumped down on her face. I stared, feeling anxiety creep up my spine. It wasn't often that fear reached me, but it was starting to. I put the syringe back into it's case and gently turned the girl over to where she was lying on her back. It _was_ the girl from the police station. I vaguely remembered my encounter with her earlier, but her haunting eyes had stuck in my mind. I also recalled my sister Deb ranting about the girl for some reason, but I had tuned her out.

The voice of my father Harry echoed through my mind, "How could you let this happen? What is the first rule? Don't get caught...you need to get rid of her now."

I shook my head, still unsure of what to do with her. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she was sleeping peacefully. There was a red mark on her forehead where she must have hit the ground, it was now swollen and would most likely turn into a bruise. I tried to remember the mindless chatter about her that I heard earlier that day. Masuka, of course, rambled on about 'hitting that'. She had long, dark brown hair and pale skin. Her eyes were a deep brown and I remember sensing something dark about them earlier, like they could see right through me to who I really am. I tried to remember what Deb was saying about her in her rant...something about the girl claiming to be a psychic and knowing odd details about the crime scene that were impossible to know unless she was there. _How did she know? _I worked that particular crime scene and it was not the job of a professional by any means, traces of DNA were all over the place. If the girl was at the scene, her DNA would have come up. It was still unsettling, she could be connected with the murderer.

"This girl is dangerous. Just the mystery of the other crime scene alone means that she is bad news and willing to go to the police under odd circumstances. You already have this kill room set up, finish the job now". Harry told me.

I shook my head harder this time. "No." I said out loud. "It wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be _the code_. I need to find out who she is first."

I felt panic rising in my chest and knew that I could not just leave the girl there. I rushed to the motel window and pushed the thick curtain aside to see if there was anyone lingering outside that could possibly see me carry the girl to the car. I couldn't see anyone, but the parking lot was full.

I looked at the girl again, knowing that I'd be running out of time before she woke up. I didn't give her the normal dose of M99. She was about 5'7 and pretty thin and I feared giving her too much, most of the people I dealt with were much larger.

It was then I thought of the perfect place. It was a place I used as a kill room before and with luck, it would still be vacant.

One can only hope.


	5. Part 4

Part Four

**Harper**

I didn't open my eyes at first, trying to remember what happened and where I was. It was difficult to think straight, my head was pounding so hard it was almost audible. I rubbed my face with my hands, the pounding drowning out my attempts at thinking. I also felt a familiar sensation of being drained, as if... I shot my eyes open, remembering what happened.

The room I was in was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't make out my surroundings. I strained to listen for any kind of noise, indicating where I was and was met with silence. I slowly pulled myself up until I was sitting, my head spinning out of control. I rubbed my face again and found a tender spot on my forehead.

I looked around the small, musty room. It was clear that the building or house it was in has been abandoned for some time. The windows were boarded up from the outside and a small amount of light sneaking through the cracks indicated that it was still daytime. I was sitting on a large table with a sheet over it. The floor around me was covered with debris and trash and there were actual vines snaking down the wall. Wherever I was, it's been deserted for awhile.

I saw a small table across from me that had a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin on it. I debated going for it and decided that it could have tampered with too easily. I looked around the room and saw that I was clearly by myself, at least for now. I slowly stood up from the table, my head still spinning and made my way towards the door, locked. Of course. I banged on the door with my fist out of frustration. I didn't even have to check my pockets of my jeans to see that they would clearly be empty.

I slowly made my way through the room, side stepping large pieces of fallen ceiling tile. The room seemed to be cleared of anything that would aide in my escape. The two tables were the only pieces of furniture in the small room. Frustrated, I sat back on the large table. My head was still spinning. It was always more intense releasing a spirit and even with 5 big gulps of soda it would take me a few days to recover. I wanted to kick myself for even walking into the plastic covered room. Releasing spirits always led to bad things and in this case, it was not any different.

**Dexter**

Harper Connelly. Her file indicated that she was 24 years old and had no previous record of any kind, not even a speeding ticket. It listed her place of residence in Texas and showed that she was in the foster system until she was 18. From the looks of it, she's been on the move ever since.

I still had no clue on what to do with her. I put her in the abandoned building that I found once before when needing to make a last minute kill room. It was remote enough that no one would hear her pounding on the door when she woke and it was secure enough to where she wouldn't escape. I tried to rack my brain for the perfect solution of how to handle her and came up empty. _She saw me_. There was no escaping it, I could _not_ let her go.

I got a few burgers and fries and large sodas from the McDonald's close to the building she was in. I knew she'd wake up soon and I needed to get there before it happened. The only thing I could think to do now was to talk to her, maybe explain that the man she saw me kill was never convicted for the three women he strangled to death.

I suppose I could have tried to make it look as if I were on duty, although me attacking her with a dose of M99 blew that chance. I racked my brain for a easy solution, but there wasn't one. The only thing I could do was try to have her see that the man deserved what he got.

I got to the building and cautiously approached the door, listening for any activity inside that might indicate whether or not she was awake now. Silence. I unlocked the door and opened it slowly, seeing that she was lying on the table, on her side.

I closed and locked the door behind me and put the bag of food and the drinks on the table next to the untouched water and aspirin that I left for her. I turned to look at the girl and was startled to see that her eyes were wide open, staring right at me. I took a step back from the table, out of swinging distance and leaned against the wall behind me. "We need to talk".


	6. Part 5

**Harper**

My heart was beating out of my chest. I stared at Dexter, afraid to breathe. I expected him to look dark and violent, but the expression on his face was guarded and void of any emotion, which felt worse. I tried to pull myself to sit up again, to get in a better stance to protect myself, my head still spinning. He reached forward to steady me and I jerked away from him quickly.

"Whoa, I'm not going to hurt you" he said softly and took a step back.

I glared at him, scooting as far back from him as possible. Images of the murdered man kept flashing through my mind. He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"I-I didn't see anything" I said pathetically. The answer was clear and we both knew I was lying. I stumbled like an idiot onto a crime scene that he created.

His eyes met mine, something dark and conflicted lurking behind them. He didn't say anything, but reached over to the bag of food and pulled out a burger, handing it out to me. I shook my head.

"You need to eat." he said simply, still holding it out.

I shook my head again and racked my brain for anything that help.

"Look, I know you probably have a pretty bad headache right now. Eat something, take some aspirin and then we'll talk". He said, holding the burger out again.

When I didn't reach for the burger, he opened the burger wrapper and took a bite from it.

"See? Nothing's wrong with it." he said, his mouth full of food.

He put it down next to me and took a big gulp of soda. I eyed the soda enviously, knowing it would help me regain my strength. When he handed it out to me, I took it gladly. The soda quenched my dry throat and I gulped it down thankfully. He tried to hand me the bottle of aspirin, which I ignored. He sighed again, popping a pill in his mouth and swallowing it. "See? Not poison? Just take one" he thrust the bottle in my empty hand. I reluctantly swallowed one down with a gulp of soda.

"Good. Now, let me just explain what you saw.." he said slowly.

"I didn't see anything, I swear. Just let me go. I was planning on leaving town today and that's just what I'll do. I'll get straight in my car and leave Florida" I said quickly. He dropped his eye contact and stared at the floor.

"You know as well as I that I can't do that. You saw me." he said, barely above a whisper.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked, my hands shaking. He shot his head up and shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" I asked, trying to fight back the urge to scream at him.

He looked back at the floor and shrugged his shoulders and didn't say anything. I felt energy rushing back into my bloodstream. My head was still aching and I was still faintly dizzy but I knew I had no chance but to make a move. He was leaning with his back against his wall and had his arms crossed in front of him as he looked down at the floor.

I struck out, jumping off the table and launching myself at him. I tried to grab at him to get him on the ground but he, again, was too strong. He grabbed my arms, trying to pin them at my sides and push me away from him. I kicked at his legs as hard as I could and managed to get one arm free that I used to punch at his face. I felt as my fist connected hard with the side of his head and my fist exploded with pain. He stumbled back from my punch and let go of both of my arms.

I stood there in shock, clutching at my fist that screaming in pain. With my other hand I grabbed the keys that he laid on the table and ran for the door. I fumbled with the keys with my good hand trying to get the door unlocked. He grabbed me from behind, causing me to drop the keys. I struggled again, trying to get free.

"STOP IT" he screamed, pinning my arms tighter and pulling me away from the door.

"Get the fuck off me" I screamed back, still struggling.

The more I struggled, the tighter he held on to me. I grew exhausted and finally gave in. My hand and head were screaming in pain and I felt a wave a nausea hitting me like a ton of bricks. When he felt me stop struggling he loosened his grip and let go of me. I slumped down onto the floor, trying not to fall apart. He came around to stand in front of me and knelt down.

"Let me see your hand" he said softly, offering his hand out to me.

I shakily held out my hand that was pounding, the skin over my knuckles had been cut and was still bleeding and was starting to swell. He gently took my hand, turning it from side to side, examining it.

"Can you move your fingers?" he asked. I opened my fist and moved my fingers and cried out in pain.

"That's good, it doesn't look broken" he said.

I did not realize how much I was shaking until Dexter put his hand on my shoulder.

"Harper, I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I just...need to figure this out" he said, looking me dead in the eye. I nodded, pushing back tears, refusing to cry in front of him.


	7. Part 6

**Dexter**

I felt a burning on my temple where she got a good shot in. Whether it was the pain or something else, I knew I wouldn't be able to hurt her. She stared up at me with haunted eyes, dirt smeared on her cheek and a swollen knuckles. If I could feel sorry for anything, it would be that she was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"This is a mistake. If you think this random girl is going to keep your secret, you are kidding yourself." Harry whispered in my ear. I ignored him and resisted the urge to let in to my current rage and frustration.

I went to the table to grab the bottle of water and a napkin from the fast food bag. I returned to Harper and gently took hold of her injured hand. She watched silently as I cleaned the wound.

"Why did you kill him?" she finally whispered softly. I looked up at her and could not read her face.

"He strangled three women to death and was going to get away with it." I said simply, watching her guarded expression.

"Did you know one of the women?" she asked, keeping her eyes trained on her hand as I washed away the blood.

I shook my head, "No, I didn't".

I finally remembered all the things Deb was saying about her. How she knew intricate details about a crime scene but had no trace of ever being there.

"How did you know about that crime scene, the one you were in the police station for?" I asked, she looked up from her hand and held eye contact with me.

"The same way I knew there was a dead body next door to my motel room."

**Harper**

As I watched Dexter tend to my hand, I felt myself relax the tiniest bit. His hands were gentle and worked quickly, it was hard to believe that those same hands were capable of murder.

I was wary to tell him about myself, but I did. I explained getting struck by lightning and what I've been able to do ever since. I've had to explain my story so many times that it felt more like reciting poetry.

He listened quietly while making a bandage out of a napkin and tape and his face didn't give away any answers as to what he was thinking. When I finally finished telling him my story, he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, it sounds crazy, whatever. Look, just let me go. Do you honestly think that anyone at your police department would believe anything I told them?" I muttered. For once being seen as a crazy person could work to my advantage.

"No, it's just...a lot to take in" he said, shaking his head. He took my hand and started fastening the bandage.

"If you want, I can prove it. Is there a cemetery nearby? Oh wait, you won't let me leave.."I said, sarcastically.

"No..I mean yes, there is a cemetery nearby..let's go" he said, walking over to pick up the keys off the ground.

"S-Seriously?" I stammered, not expecting him to indulge my wish.

He paused at the door and looked back at me, "Just...promise not to run."

**Dexter**

I didn't know what to think about what Harper told me. As a blood splatter analyst and man of science, things that can't be explained by science seem unlikely to me. It might have been a plan for her to escape, but I did want to see what she was going to show me in the cemetery. I knew that without a doubt she was lying.

We rode in silence until we were almost to the cemetery. "We're almost there, I can feel it", she said quietly.

I glanced over the road for a sign that would have told her it was nearby and couldn't find one. Weird, but who's to say that she hasn't been to this cemetery before.

When we arrived to the cemetery she walked to the first row of graves and closed her eyes.

"Okay, lead me to a grave and have me stand on it, not facing the tombstone" she said, holding her uninjured hand out, ready for me to lead her.

I took her down to the 5th grave that read "Simon Mercer 1934-1992 Beloved son and brother". She opened her eyes once I let go of her arm and stood back. She kicked her shoes off and knelt down onto the grave, putting her hands on the grass. She closed her eyes and was quiet for a moment. Her eyebrows scrunched together in concentration and I saw a few emotions cross her face.

When she opened her eyes again, she sat back on her knees. She gazed around for a moment, seeming dazed.

"His name was Simon...Mercy? Mercing? I couldn't make out the last name. He killed himself, shotgun to the head" She shuttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

I simply stared, wondering if she somehow peeked at the Tombstone. 'For all I know she's someone who goes around memorizing headstones.' I muttered to myself.

I was ready to end the charade and knew exactly how to do it. I led her further into the cemetery to a grave I have visited before.

"This needs to stop. Now. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." Harry warned.

She did the same process of taking off her shoes and kneeling forward on the grave, putting her hands on the grave gently. Her face went through the same myriad of emotions, only this time, she looked directly at me her eyes opened.

"You were there...Harry Morgan... He was sick, very sick and...killed himself with medication." she said quietly.

I felt the hair on my arms prick up. Only one person aside from me knew that Harry had killed himself. I didn't even know until that person told me shortly before she died. It was impossible. Could she be telling the truth?


	8. Part 7

**Harper**

The color drained from his face after I told him what I saw. He believed me then, I could see it. I couldn't get the image of Dexter, about 10 years younger, clinging desperately to Harry's hand as his life slipped away. While I couldn't necessarily see his face in the vision, there was no doubt that it was him. It was sort of like having a dream where you don't see someone you know, but you can feel their presence. Dexter's presence was a strong, distinct torrent of emotions. Dexter still had that haunted look about him today. My stomach felt queasy, an after effect of Harry's overdose and my head was still ringing from Simon's gunshot to the head. Dexter sat on the ground, looking defeated, possibly reliving this death.

"Was Harry your father?" I asked, he nodded slowly.

"He adopted me when I was really young." He said quietly. In a way, I almost felt connected to him at that moment. I knew there was much more to this story that I didn't know. We both seemed to have something haunting us.

We sat in silence for what seemed to be forever. I thought back to the situation that brought us here. There were still unanswered questions. Would he let me go? Did the man he killed really do what he said he did? I found myself unafraid of the broken man sitting in front of me. Somewhere deep down, I knew to not be afraid of him.

He looked up at me and snapped out of the trance he was in. "We should go get your hand looked at" he said, standing back up and offering me a hand to help me up. I was dizzy walking at first, contacting so many bodies in that short period of time started taking it's toll on me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand on my back to help me.

"Yes, I'm fine...it's just draining. When I contact a body I feel everything that person felt." I said, pulling away from him to walk on my own towards his car. We got in the car and once I was seated, I finally felt relaxed.

Dexter got in the car as well and put the keys in the ignition, but didn't start the car. I knew there was something he was wanting to say and he seemed to have a hard time getting the words out.

"I've never...told anyone about me before...what I do" he started, staring down at the steering wheel. I waited for him to continue but he didn't. He started the car.

I asked the question that's been in the back of mind, "Was he the first guy you killed?"

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "No...and he won't be the last."

A shiver ran down my spine at this revelation. How many people has he killed? Did they all "deserve" to die like the one I encountered. I thought back to all the bodies I've encountered. I pictured the bodies of murder victims. Some had been women my age with bright futures and some were even small children. While the murder cases were usually rare, they always left me feeling bitter for weeks. I wondered if what Dexter was doing was right on some level. My head was swimming with so many questions and thoughts.

"Would it be alright if we stopped so I could get a coke? I need some sugar in my system" I asked, he nodded and started driving.

We drove a few blocks over and he parked in front of a restaurant. He insisted that I eat something as well and I didn't disagree with him this time. I tried thinking back to a time where I encountered so much death in such a small period of time and realized that it was the first time I had so much contact. My body felt close to the breaking point and was screaming for nourishment.

I followed him into the small restaurant. The restaurant was small and quaint. There was a few small tables and a counter to order from. While the decor was modest, I knew the food would be good based on the amount of locals that filled the small joint. The line to the counter extended all the way to the door we entered through.

"Go ahead and grab us a table." Dexter said, gesturing to the one of the few vacant tables.

I navigated my way through the crowd and was happy to sit down again. I didn't realize just how hungry I was until I took the first bite of the pork cuban sandwich Dexter brought me and it didn't take me long to finish it. It was awkward sitting at the table with him, a part of me wanting to trust him and the other part of me seeing how he killed that man. It seemed silly to attempt small talk, so we both sat quietly and ate. I finished my sandwich before he did and was gazing around the restaurant at the people in the restaurant and my eyes met a familiar face, Detective Morgan. The sandwich was suddenly feeling like a ton of dead weight in my stomach.

"Oh shit." I muttered as Detective Morgan saw me...and her brother. Her face went from confused to surprised to angry in a split second. She put down the large sandwich in her hand and made her way over to us.

"Really Dex?" she cried out and Dexter almost choked on his bite.

"Hey Deb, you met Harper. I ran into her and she was asking a good place to try a cuban sandwich..." he said quickly and casually, shooting me a look. I nodded in agreement. She looked at both of us in disbelief.

"I can't fucking believe this. My brother, the celibate monk rejects every girl I try to set him up with and instead goes for the psycho who strolls into the station!" she ranted, sitting down next to him. I tried to keep my temper level. I've been called psycho several times before and got to where it didn't bother me, but hearing it on the kind of day made it difficult to brush off.

"Jesus Deb, calm down." Dexter said, now shooting her a look.

"Look, I get that you don't like me, that's fine. I really have no interest in your brother at all and that is a promise." I replied, giving her the same smirk she was shooting at me. Dexter was working on inhaling his sandwich as quick as possible to avoid talking altogether. I stood up and excused myself to the restroom so Deb could have a chance to lay into her brother.

I was shocked at my reflection when I got into the restroom, my hair was disheveled, I had dirt smeared on one cheek and I looked like I hadn't sleep in weeks. I splashed cool water on my face and worked my hair into a ponytail. I examined my hand and saw that the swelling was still pretty bad and was really tender.

If I were to escape, now would be the moment. I thought it over for the briefest moment even though I no longer doubted my safety. Logically, Dexter was a murderer, even a serial killer, but he seemed to have no interest in harming me. To leave when I seemed to of gained some of his trust would only create more problems.

When I opened the restroom door, Dexter was waiting just outside it. I couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking of the same thing I had thought of a moment ago. I felt a small twinge of guilt.

"Let's go" he said, quickly directing me towards the door. I looked back and saw Deb at her original table, watching us leave and giving me her best 'I'm watching you, bitch.' look.

He breathed out a sigh of relief once we made it back into his SUV. He looked at me and his face broke into a grin. It was the first time I've seen him smile.

"I cannot believe this day..let's get you to the doctor" he said softly chuckling as he drove me to the hospital.

Dexter said he would wait in the SUV while I got checked out. He was starting to get a bruise on his temple from where I punched him and said that he didn't want to raise suspicion. The doctor examined my hand and ran a x-ray to determine that there was a hairline fracture in my knuckle. He gave me a splint for my hand a prescription for pain killers.

Dexter drove me back to my motel after that. I felt safe and relieved to see the dingy, musty room again. Since all of my belongings were still in my motel room, along with the key to the room, Dexter had to pick the door lock for me. He opened the door for me. I walked into the room, seeing everything as I had left it. Dexter hesitated at the door.

"Thanks for taking me for food and the hospital" I said, unsure of what else to say.

He nodded and smirked "If anyone should be thanking around here it's me. How long will you be in Miami?" He asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Oh..not much longer. I'll get some sleep tonight and then head out as soon as possible tomorrow, so don't worry about that." I said quickly, glancing at the unmade bed with itchy motel sheets that looked at that moment like heaven.

"I'm not worried. Where are you headed?" he asked.

"I think Louisiana, I'm supposed to have a client there." I replied, wondering how many missed calls from potential clients I must have.

He nodded "I won't keep you any longer, take care of that hand" he said, grabbing the keys out of pocket.

We said an awkward goodbye and I took two steps before crashing on the bed. I wondered for a brief moment if I would see Dexter again before succumbing to sleep.


	9. Part 8

**Dexter**

I sat in my SUV in front of Harper's motel with the odd feeling of not wanting to leave. The goodbye was understandably awkward and felt too soon. I was never one to connect on a human level. Many things that other people consider 'human' seems silly to me. I guess it makes me a psychopath, but I've never been able to care for or have emotion for other people. I've always longed for human connection and with Harper, I felt I was on the verge of something I haven't experienced before. It was the first time I met someone else with a dark passenger of their own.

I didn't know what to make of her "gift". It seemed impossible but I had no other way of explaining how she would know that much about Harry's death. A part of me longed to sit her down and tell her about Harry, the code and my own dark passenger, a part of me knew that she might just understand.

Am I capable of having a friend? Is it even possible for someone to accept me? It doesn't seem likely.

"You're getting reckless. Just leave, you're lucky she seems to trust you on some level." Harry echoed in my mind. I sighed and started the car, he was right.

**Harper**

I woke up with light streaming through the windows. I was unsure if it has been a few hours or a few days that I slept. I sat up in bed and stretched, my back stiff and sore and my head was still groggy. I looked to the bedside table and saw that it was 10:30am, what day of the week was anyone's guess. I grabbed my cellphone off the nightstand and saw that I had no missed calls. I even tried calling the client from Louisiana, but the call rang once and went to voice mail, ignored. I didn't worry since it wouldn't have been the first time a client backed out last minute.

I got out of bed lazily and stripped off my clothes to get into the shower. The hot shower helped wake me up and felt amazing after a stressful few days. After my shower I towel dried my hair and kept it down, it was naturally curly and would dry in soft waves which was good enough for me. My suitcase was to the point of overflowing and I knew that it was past time to go to the laundromat.

The rest of the day was spent doing laundry and going to the pharmacy. I couldn't get Dexter out of my head the entire time I ran errands. He was on the verge of telling me something, I knew it. There was the fact that he murdered people that for some reason didn't scare me. Something about him seemed dead inside, but there was also something good about him. Any other murderer would have just killed me on the spot or not let me go. But not only did Dexter let me go, he even took me to the hospital for a hand that was injured while punching him.

I tried to decide where to drive to next. I was still debating Louisiana, but was thinking of somewhere cooler. I doubted that the client would call me at this point, it had been too long since I've talked to them. I made my way back to the motel and sat on my bed with my laptop going onto Google weather seeing who was having the best weather at that time. I was torn between Wilmington or Chapel Hill, North Carolina when I heard a knock at the motel door. I put the laptop aside and hopped off the bed to answer the door.

I opened the door and was half expecting to see Dexter, but it was Ms. Harris instead. She didn't even bother saying hello and rushed into my motel room.

"Oh Harper, I am so glad you are still in town!" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. I took in her appearance and she seemed worse from the last time I saw her. Her face was bright red and she had mascara running down into her cheeks.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the drama that was soon to follow. Her foot tapped on the floor impatiently as if she were unable to hold all her emotions in. I shut the door and sat on a chair facing the bed.

"Hello Ann, what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked in my best soothing voice.

"I think I know who killed my husband. I was talking to my friends about what happened and they said there was a waitress at the Blue Parrot bar that has that tattoo you described. My husband went there with his work buddies a lot, it HAS to be her..."

I nodded slowly, "Well...Ann..a lot of women might have a tattoo on their hip, it's fairly common" I explained.

She waved her hand in the air as if that fact was insignificant. "No, no, I have a feeling, it has to be her. Will you go to the bar with me and see if you can tell? I mean, you have genuine powers, they might tell you something"

I thought about it for a moment. I really did not want to go to a bar with Ann. I looked at my laptop longingly that currently displayed a picture of a happy sun over North Carolina's weather forecast. However, I knew I had no choice. Ann would not let this subject go and would likely get herself in trouble without my help.

"Okay, I'll go..but I think it's a better idea if I go by myself. I'm not sure I'll be able to give you a direct answer, but I'll give it a shot" I said. She let out a sigh, pressing her hand against her chest.

"Thank you so, so much! Her name is Lisa and the Blue Parrot is on South Bay Shore Drive. Should I draw you a map?" she asked, digging in her purse for something. I shook my head "No, I can look it up on my laptop, I'll find it." I said, standing up to show her to the door. She thanked me a thousand times on her way out the door. I sighed at the thought of another day in Miami.


	10. Part 9

**Harper**

The closer I got to the Blue Parrot, the less I wanted to go. The safety of the neighborhood seemed to drop dramatically the closer I got. I finally spotted a small neon sign displaying "The Blue Parrot". The street was loud with laughter and the booming of car stereos. There was homeless men heckling strangers for money or cigarettes and even women that appeared to be prostitutes.

I parked as close to the entrance as possible and eyed the entrance reluctantly. There was a bored but tough looking bouncer sitting outside the door reading a newspaper. I couldn't help but reconsider my offer, it wasn't too late to just call Ms. Harris and say the tattoo didn't match the one I saw and go merrily on my way back to the motel. Ann's hysterical face flashed in my mind again and it pushed me to just suck it up and go in.

The inside of the bar was what I expected, it was poorly lit, smoky and humid. The room had a small makeshift dance floor that some people were using to grind on each other. I made my way to the bar and found an empty bar stool next to a woman that was clearly on the prowl and a man who had his hand up a young girl's skirt. The woman gave me a dirty look and moved down the bar to a different stool. The bartender came over and I ordered a glass of red wine. As I waited for my wine I glanced around the dark bar, looking for different waitresses. It wasn't too difficult since there seemed to be only one.

When the bartender returned with my wine I leaned forward to him, "Hey, that waitress looks familiar to me, what's her name?" I asked. He followed my gaze to the waitress. "That's Lisa" he said and turned around to take a different order. Bingo.

I left the bar with my glass of wine and found a empty table in the area of where she seemed to be serving. She seemed the same build as the woman I saw strangle Mr. Harris. She was really skinny and was wearing a skin tight short skirt and a very low cut top exposing her breasts, but not her stomach or hips. I sipped on my wine, wondering what I would tell Ann even if I knew it was the right person. A few men came over, trying to get me to dance and I quickly shut them down. I drank my wine faster, needing to actually finish my wine to get her to come to my table and also wanting to leave as soon as I could. Even when my wine was finished, it took her 10 minutes to make her way over to me.

"You want another?" she asked quickly, I nodded. She went to the bar and returned minutes later with the wine. When she returned I stopped her from leaving right away.

"Hey, what do you think about tattoos? I was thinking of getting one, do you think they're too trashy?" I asked her. She smiled and lifted her shirt, displaying the butterfly tattoo, it was her. "Nah, see? I have one, cute isn't it?"

I nodded and smiled "That is cute".

I didn't even bother drinking that wine and left a 10 on the table and made my way out of the bar. It was probably close to midnight at that point. I walked down the street towards my car quickly. There seemed to be more random sketchy looking people on the streets than there were before, some that were staring at me. I felt around my pocket for the pepper spray just in case.

"Harper!", a familiar voice called out from behind me. I turned and was surprised to see Dexter standing a few feet back on the sidewalk. He jogged to quickly catch up with me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confused and almost irritated but glad to have someone to walk with.

"I should ask you the same thing. Are you trying to get killed out here?" he asked in a low voice, I looked at his face and saw that he looked annoyed.

Either he was following me to make sure I left town or he thought I needed a 'protector'. I felt anger boiling inside me. I've taken care of myself for most of my life and did not need to explain my actions to anyone. I didn't bother answering him and just kept walking to my car. We got to my car and without asking he got in the passenger seat. I got in the car and locked my door and then spun around at him.

"Are you stalking me now? Trying to make sure I don't go to the police?" I snapped.

He sighed, letting his head fall back on the head rest. "No, of course not. I just..I don't know, I followed you. I don't know why." he let the words trail off.

I didn't want to let him off so easily, but I could feel my anger subsiding. I put on my seat belt and started the car, even if it was Miami in August, it was a chilly night and I wanted to turn the heater on.

"What were you doing out here?" he asked, looking at me, his eyes still as guarded as ever.

"Not that it is any of your business, but I came here for a client" I said, not sure if I wanted to give him any more details. He cocked an eyebrow.

"They had a dead body in that bar?" he asked, turning his head to look at the bar's entrance.

I shook my head, "Of course not. You know that Harris case I was in the police station for? Well, the victim's wife thought a waitress in that bar was the killer". I explained.

"And was she..?" he asked.

I nodded, "I think she is. She has the same tattoo that I saw"

A strange look came across his face. He looked conflicted. "Interesting" he said simply. "It's too bad the police give you no credibility" he added.

I couldn't help but laugh, "I don't think I _want_ them to believe me. Imagine if they did...I'd be forced to work for the FBI and probably studied by scientists. I prefer getting clients here and there and having my freedom" It was true. I'd probably wither and die if I had to work a steady job in one town, day after day. I lived for not being tied down.

He nodded and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I can see what you mean".

I again got the feeling that he was wanting to tell me something. He took my right hand and looked at it.

"It's hard to tell with the splint, but it does look like the swelling has gone down", he pointed out. I didn't notice before, but a bruise did form on his temple, where I had punched him. "Yeah, the doctor gave me some painkillers too, but I haven't really needed them".

He let go of my hand and opened his mouth to say something and then stopped.

I sighed out loud. "What is it? I feel like there's something you've been trying to say, but haven't"

He took a deep breath and looked away from me. "Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked. I pondered his question for a moment before shaking my head.

"Well, I do have a lot of unanswered questions, but I don't know, I just don't feel that I need to be afraid of you" I explained, carefully. I knew that I was treading on a subject that I might not want the answers to.

"I just...haven't been able to tell people about what I do before. They wouldn't understand and I wouldn't expect them to." he said, slowly.

"I think I could relate with that scenario. Look, I'm criticized for what I do almost every day. I don't know if what you do is morally right, but at the same time I don't even know if what I do is morally right" I explained and without even thinking, reached for his hand.


	11. Part 10

**Dexter**

She reached for my hand and I felt the mask slipping. I felt the words about to tumble from my mouth. I took hold of her hand, that was bulky from the splint and gave in.

"I have this..darkness inside of me. It's been there since I could remember. I've had this urge, this need to..kill. My father Harry saw it in me when I was younger and trained me to focus this darkness and use it in a way to really do better things than just kill at random. He taught me a code that would give me the safety of not getting caught and to keep me honest and almost make me human. I've never been able to connect with people or feel emotions or really have 'feelings'. With the code, I've been able to almost live a normal life. But when this dark passenger comes for me I get filled with that need to kill again. I always choose people that are murderers and plan on killing innocent people again and again. It's probably the only moral thing about what I do. I try not to let the darkness take hold of me and control my life, but the darkness _is_ me. It's what and who I am." I stopped and looked at Harper and searched her face for disgust or fear and was surprised again to see...understanding.

**Harper**

As Dexter spoke, I thought back to my high school psychology class. We learned about people with "psychopathic" tendencies. The people were described as being completely void of human emotion. The people in the text book were unable of experiencing love, sadness, and especially empathy. I compared Dexter to these people and could not see them being one and the same. The people in the text book would have killed me on the spot and Dexter had something inside him that stopped him from hurting me. While I really just met him, I could already tell that I knew more about Dexter than most of the people in his life.

Even his need to kill didn't scare me, although it should. So much of my life I've been controlled by this power inside of me. It wasn't a desire to seek out dead bodies and experience death over and over again, but it did control me. I had no choice.

"It's almost like your just a vessel for the darkness" I whispered out loud, now understanding the connection I felt with him.

He nodded, his face for the first time didn't look guarded. The darkness was still in his eyes, but his whole face seemed more vulnerable.

"That's it exactly." he replied looking down at our hands that were still intertwined. "Do you still plan on leaving soon?" he asked.

I felt torn. Was an emotional connection with a serial killer something to stay in town for? It sounded crazy but I also felt the longing to escape Miami slip away.

"Yes" I said, pulling my hand out of his. Growing attached and making connections was dangerous territory for me. I realized a long time ago that I wasn't meant to belong to anyone or anything. Changing my ways at the first sign of connection to someone would go against everything I stood for.

"Have lunch with me first? Before you leave?" he asked, his dark eyes penetrating mine.

I sighed inwardly, knowing the wall I was trying to build back up was slipping. "Okay. I'll have to meet with Ann Harris tomorrow anyways", I added, more for my benefit than his.

His eyes narrowed, "Don't tell her about the waitress. She'll just do something stupid with that kind of information."

He was right, that information was just too risky. I'd get dragged into the police station again. I decided to just call Ann in the morning and explain that the butterfly tattoo was no match.

"I'll let you get back to the motel now. I'll come by to pick you up tomorrow around noon. Be careful driving" he said, giving my hand another squeeze and then got out of the car, waving as he passed in front of my car. I watched as he made his way back down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, keeping his head down. I sighed again, I could feel that nothing good could come out of staying in Miami.


	12. Part 11

**Harper**

I tried calling Ann several times the next morning. By the time I reached her voice mail box for the fifth time, I finally gave up, throwing the phone on the bed in frustration. Ann struck me as the kind of person that would be anxiously waiting for my call.

It was 11:30 and any minute, Dexter would show up. I was hoping Ann would be a good excuse to get out of our lunch plans, but that plan had failed miserably. I felt anxious about the lunch with Dexter. The moment I woke up I knew that I should have said 'No' to his request. I was so used to having a wall to protect myself and people rarely tried to break through it.

I thought back to my Mother, the one person that I ever truly vulnerable too. As a child, I didn't understand what a selfish person she was and usually blamed myself for her physical and mental abuse. Living with her and several foster families hardened something inside of me and caused me to realize that no one in this world could be trusted. The fact that I was even having lunch with Dexter showed that I've possibly not learned anything from those years.

Dexter showed up exactly at noon. He greeted me with a big smile, something I noticed he was doing more. "You ready?" he asked cheerfully.

I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Sure, let's go".

We drove a few blocks towards the ocean and then pulled into the parking lot of a marina.

"I thought that I'd show you my other hobby" he said, jokingly as we parked.

I glanced around the marina, it was quiet and secluded. The ocean shone brightly in the distance and various types of fishing boats ran along a small dock. We got out of the car and the smell of dead fish tickled at my nose. Interesting place for lunch.

We walked down the dock and finally stopped in front of a mariner boat. I saw the name "Slice of Life" emblazoned on the side and knew it had to be in reference of his double life. He helped me board the boat and I sat on one of the boat's seats as he started behind the steering and cranked the boat to life.

He drove the boat out into the open water. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in sight. I looked down at the crystal clear water as Dexter guided the boat further from the marina. For a brief second I stopped worrying and let myself enjoy the moment. The sun warmed my face and the salty air was refreshing.

When the marina was shrunk off in the distance he stopped the boat and pulled a cooler around to where I was sitting. He opened the cooler and offered me a coke and wrapped Cuban Sandwich.

"Sorry the sandwich is cold, I had to get it early this morning so I could have time to prep the boat for today" he said, taking his own sandwich out of it's wrapper and taking a big bite.

"No worries, it's really peaceful out here" I said, gazing at the view.

We ate quietly and it was truly peaceful. The sound of the water lapping against the boat was almost hypnotic. The boat drifted on it's own further away from the Marina.

The peaceful moment was broken by a familiar sensation. At first I thought it was a fluke or the hum of the boat's engine until I remembered the boat wasn't even on. Sure enough, the further the boat drifted, the stronger the buzzing started in my head. There was a dead body nearby.

I put down my sandwich and tried to recognize what direction the buzzing was coming from, but realized that it wasn't just one body, it was several. I looked at Dexter and he curiously cocked an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his mouth full of food.

I shook my head "There's...bodies nearby" I said and stood to walk towards the end of the boat to look over the side. I didn't know what I expected to see and of course I only saw the same blue water that appeared beautiful moments before. I should have expected that the ocean would hold dead bodies, but the number and intensity of the buzzing indicated so many people that it puzzled me.

I looked back at Dexter and saw that his face paled. He put down his sandwich. He went back to the boat's GPS system, examining it.

"I completely forgot that you could do that" he muttered. I turned around to fully face him.

"What do you mean?" I asked, but his face answered my question. I sat back down, "Ohhh..this is where you take..."

He nodded, the carefree man from earlier was gone. My head spun as the intense buzzing continued. There was several bodies in the water and I was sharing a sandwich with the man that put them there. It wasn't funny, at all, but the moment was so overwhelming and ridiculous that I felt a rush of hysterical giggles rising up my throat. I tried not to laugh, but couldn't stop myself. I burst out laughing. He looked alarmed and it made me laugh even harder. Finally my laughter became contagious and he started laughing too.

"You sure know how to plan a great lunch, Dex."


	13. Part 12

**Dexter**

I felt free. I felt almost human. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I laughed uncontrollably like this. Heck, I could even count on one hand the times I've laughed and it wasn't forced. I was afraid that during the night Harper would be mulling over my confession and change her mind about trusting me. Her laughter seemed like music to my ears. When our laughter died down she looked back over the side of the boat, gazing into the water. I couldn't help but wonder what my ghosts were telling her. I sat there watching her, dying to hear what she was probably hearing, to see what she was seeing. She must have felt my gaze and turned back towards me, her eyes still lit up from the laughter.

"They must be pretty far down there. Their signal is very faint, but there seems to be enough to be noticeable this high up" she said as if she were tracking fish. I nodded, there were several down there.

"It's not bothering you is it?" I asked, she shrugged her shoulders.

"No. I mean, before I got struck by lighting I was pretty queasy about blood and bodies, but you'd be surprised how desensitized you become when you experience so many deaths." she said coming back over to sit next to me. A long strand of her hair blew across her face and I reached up to brush it away. My hand lingered a moment on her cheek and I had the strongest impulse to pull her face towards mine and kiss her soft pink lips but instead I let my hand drop back to my lap.

She was the first girl I have honestly ever been attracted to. There were women that were beautiful and that was undeniable, but I never understood the human mating ritual and romance. It all seemed so animalistic and almost barbaric. It was odd even feeling emotion for a person. I had girlfriends in the past, Harry taught me that I needed to do those things to keep myself safe, to not fit the psychopath stereotype. I went through the motions with a few different girls, but they would all eventually realize that I was a empty shell and would leave me for that reason. But with Harper, it seemed right, I actually felt something.

The moment was broken when a buzzing came from her purse. She grabbed her cellphone out of her purse and looked at the screen.

"It's probably Ann" she said to me before answering the phone. Her face fell when the person on the other line began speaking. "Seriously? No...I haven't seen her since yesterday morning" she said, her tone growing more concerned.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, when she hung up, She shook her head.

"Ann's dead. They found her body this morning. They...want me to come into the station for questioning." she stammered. My own heart sank, knowing that my sister Deb would be ready to slap handcuffs on Harper the moment she walked in the door. I kicked myself for ignoring the pager that went off this morning, I needed to be at that crime scene.

"Oh god. Do you think it could have been that waitress, Lisa?" she asked, her eyes full of realization.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "Maybe", I lied.

I knew for a fact it wasn't the waitress, Lisa. What Harper didn't know was that Lisa was in the ocean beneath the boat at that very moment, cut into 12 very neat pieces.


	14. Part 13

**Harper**

I was more anxious abut my second visit to the Miami Metro Police Department, for obvious reasons. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that Ann was dead. When Deb called earlier, I knew almost immediately what had happened. Deb's tone was smug and accusatory as she delivered the news and asked me to come in immediately for questioning.

Dexter could sense my mounting tension and did his best to prep me on the car ride over. "Tell them that we were together all night. When Ann left your hotel room you then met with me for dinner. You spent the night at my place and we went out on the boat early this morning."

At first, I wanted Dexter to take me back to my motel, but Dexter insisted on taking me to the station himself. I wanted a brief moment to clear my head and figure out what to tell Deb. However, I was now glad to have Dexter's support.

I was worried, even as Dexter told me not to be. I've had cases where the police held me as long as possible out of spite, but this was the first time one of my client's wound up murdered and that I've been the last person to see them alive.

Deb was waiting along with another detective when got there. Her expression told me that I did have a reason to worry, even more so when she saw that I was with Dexter again. I watched as her smug expression morphed into shock.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?"she cried at Dexter.

Dexter gave the two detectives a sheepish look, "Sorry, We were out on the boat and I guess the pager wasn't getting a signal. Harper tells me that Ann Harris was murdered?"

The male detective looked from Dexter to me. He was an older Hispanic male wearing a white fedora and Hawaiian shirt. "You're Harper Connelly?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

I nodded and opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by Deb. "We? Who's we. You took her out on your boat?"she asked, giving Dexter a pointed look.

Dexter ignored her question and turned to the male detective. "I'm really sorry for missing your page this morning. This is Harper and there's no real need to question her...she's been with me since around 5pm last night."

The male detective shot a quick knowing grin at Dexter before turning to me again, "Hello Miss Connelly, I'm Sgt. Angel Batista."he shook my hand.

"No worries about the page, Dex, Masuka filled in for you. It's about time you got a...break"he said, patting Dexter on the back.

While Batista seemed to think that Dexter's word about me was good enough, Deb was still not convinced. She tried to pull me into the interview room, but thankfully, Batista stepped in.

"I'll talk to her, see if she has any info that might help. Is that okay with you, Harper?" he asked me with a friendly smile. I was grateful and had a feeling that Batista would be someone I could get along with.

Rather than taking me to an interview room, I just sat at his desk with him. His desk was stacked with papers and old coffee cups. He asked me a few standard questions about my various encounters with Ann. I felt my anxiety melting away since he didn't seem to think of me as a suspect. I told him about what Ann told me of the waitress. He seemed interested in this new information and thanked me for my time.

**Dexter**

I watched from across the room as Batista questioned Harper and felt thankful for him stepping in. I knew that Deb didn't trust Harper and would have done everything in her power to crack Harper.

"Dex, are you listening to me?"Deb cried, grabbing my attention again. I hadn't been listening, knowing fully well that she would simply be complaining about my new companion.

"I was asking you what the deal with that chick is? Don't you remember what I told you about her?"she asked, her eyes were stubborn as ever.

I nodded, "Yeah, I remember." I said simply, not sure how else to explain my relationship with Harper.

"And that doesn't bother you? You're the most practical person I know." she continued, shaking her head in disbelief.

I really couldn't blame Deb for not understanding. It didn't make any sense to me either. Deb was just trying to protect me in a way, which could almost be comical, since she should be protecting everyone else from me. I turned to my little sister, putting my hands on her shoulders.

"Deb, I know you're just looking out for me, but you don't need to worry, I can take care of myself."I told her, looking her square in the eye.

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I know."she muttered.

"So promise you'll back off?"I asked, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'll fucking back off, but if that bitch hurts you in any way or has anything to do with the Harris murder I won't even hesitate to take her down."

I chuckled, "Fair enough, Could I ask just one more favor from you?"


End file.
